


Family Portrait

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Some angst, first fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2229159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam have been living happily with their godfather for the past three years, but they end up back in Lawrence for Dean's senior year of high school and Sam's freshman year. They think it'll be another year of boredom and pain when they meet Castiel Novak - and their year back in Lawrence just might turn out to be a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Portrait

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i should warn you this is my first fic  
> the spacing looks really weird for some reason so sorry about that but i don't feel like going back and fixing every line  
> no beta, all mistakes are my own  
> not sure how many parts this will be   
> i hope you like it, please point out any mistakes and i would love to get some feedback  
> (seriously tell me what i need to work on i want to get better at this whole writing thing - thanks)

Early August always left Lawrence feeling like hell. The sun beat down upon the tiny houses, scorching everything and everyone in sight. The heat was one of the things Dean hated so much about the place. It was part of the thing that had caused the fire - heat and drought, the grass just caught fire. And that was that.  
It wasn’t as hot as it had been fourteen years ago on that fateful day, but it was still stifling in the old truck. Dean rubbed the pendant Sam had given him so many years ago between his fingers, a nervous tic he’d picked up over the years. Sam was next to him in the backseat, all floppy hair and the typical light in his eyes gone.  
Dean wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t know why Bobby was dropping them back off in Kansas with their dad - he’d kept them for three years, taken care of them and made sure they were safe. But now they were back, and Bobby wouldn’t even explain. He was inside the crappy little house John Winchester owned, explaining or just talking to John. Dean didn’t really care. He was too nervous to give a damn about anything other than Sam’s safety right then. 

“Why’d we have to come back?” 

Voice still unchanged and soft, Sam looked up to his brother, eyes almost completely obscured by the brown fringe covering his face. Dean didn’t have an answer. But he had to make one up - Sam looked to him for explanations, to lead. He couldn’t fall short on that responsibility. 

“I think Bobby wants Dad to see us. Maybe we’re just staying for the last couple weeks of summer. I don’t really give a fuck, so long as you’re alright. Got it, Sammy?” Dean tried smiling, but he knew it looked weak. 

“It’s Sam. I’m not a kid anymore.” Sam turned to look out the window, shoulders hunched and voice irritated. 

“You might think that. But you’ve gotta enjoy it. Trust me on that one, kiddo.”

“Kiddo?”

“Just preparing you for whatever weird nicknames Dad’s gonna use to try and be fatherly.”

Bobby knocked on the window, startling both boys. Dean rolled down the window, Bobby leaning in slightly so he could see both of them. He softly tugged on his baseball cap, scrubbing his hand over his face. Dean noticed something he hadn’t previously - he looked tired. Sure, Bobby had always looked “old” to Dean, but he could really see it now. The years were wearing on him.

“Your Dad’s waitin’ for ya inside. I don’t know when I’m pickin’ you boys up, but I’ll be back, don’t worry. He just wants to see y’all.” They said their goodbyes, which consisted of a few gruff hugs and iterations of the word “idjit”.

The Winchester boys stepped out of the car, back into the blistering heat. The house of John Winchester was nothing like the nice building he’d had before the fire. This wasn’t even much of a house - shack was a better word. It was run-down, front steps creaking as Dean stepped forward. The wood was rotting, the front window was cracked, and there was an odd smell to top it all off.   
Dean had no idea how he was supposed to consider this home for the next few - days? Weeks? Months? Just as the thought entered his head, the front door opened, the hinges squeaking painfully. John Winchester stood before them, brown hair brushed out of his face and scruff on his chin. He smiled when he saw the boys, eyes crinkling when he stepped out to embrace Sam. Sam, who was already startlingly tall and only growing. When did he get that tall? Dean couldn’t help but wonder, before he, too was engulfed in a hug. An honest-to-God hug. From his father.   
John Winchester, widower. John, mechanic-turned-fireman-turned-drunkard. John Winchester, rumored child abuser. John Winchester, father of two wonderful boys sent to live with their godfather. John, a man who hadn’t laid eyes on his children in three years.

“Hey, boys. Come on in, this is your house too - Dean, what the hell’s going on with your hair?”

“Uh - it’s just some product stuff I use so it looks okay.”

“No boy of mine’s going around lookin’ like a goddamn fag. Wash that out. And Sam - we’re gonna have to give you a cut, too. What’s Bobby been doin’ to you two all these years?”

He’s been doing a better fucking job than you, Dean thought bitterly, rubbing the pendant. He tapped Sam’s shoulder, gesturing to walk into the house. It was one story, and judging from the trail of beer bottles leading to the first room on the right, that was Dad’s room. He led Sam into the house, walking down a short hallway and finding what looked like a semi-clean bedroom. Two beds were pushed on opposite walls, adorned with brown sheets. There was a small table with a lamp and a picture under the window, between the beds - it showed a four-year-old Dean and baby Sam, each held by a parent. Last picture before the accident.

“I’m taking this bed. What do you wanna do, Sam?”

“I want to get a fucking car and drive the fuck away from here.”

“Hey! Watch your fucking language, Sam.” 

Dean stopped for a second, contemplating what he just said. Sam raised an eyebrow, shrugging off his plaid over-shirt and being left in a simple gray t-shirt. It fit loosely on his body, shoulders still narrow and body lanky. Sam was just growing up instead of out.

“How ‘bout we go down and visit Ellen?” 

Sam nodded, both boys rising and walking out of the cramped space. John was nowhere to be found, something that wasn’t surprising in the least to either of them. They stepped back out into open air, t-shirts clinging to their backs as they began the walk to the town bar.

“Sure. I wonder if Jo still has a crush on you.”

“Shut up.”

“C’mon, you know you liked her at least a little bit…”

“Just like you like that Ruby chick. Right, Sammy?”

Dean looked over, a grin on his face as Sam blushed. The trek lasted twenty minutes, brothers settling into a comfortable silence. It was around 2 o’clock when they stepped inside, and it looked just like Dean remembered. Ten booths, seven tables, nine seats on each side of the bar. A short boy with rather - was majestic the right word to use? - hair sat at the back booth, sucking on a lollipop. He eyed Sam and Dean up and down before winking at Sam and sauntering out the back door. Okay, Dean did not remember that.  
Ellen was working the bar, wiping it down with an old cloth. She looked up when the bell jangled, jaw dropping when she saw who had entered. Tossing the rag over her shoulder, she propped her hands on her hips and walked out from behind the counter, eyes hard at first but softening with each step she took closer to the boys. 

“Winchesters. Aren’t you two all grown up? Dean - you sure did get pretty.” 

She gave him a playful slap on the cheek before she wrapped her arms around him, warm and happy. She let him go, turning to Sam. He was already taller than her, and looking sheepish at the attention. Ellen wrapped her arms around the younger Winchester for a full minute, mumbling about his height the whole time and criticizing Dean for letting him get so big. 

“Why are you boys here? Just to be a pain in my ass?” 

The words were harsh, but Dean and Sam both laughed softly - Ellen’s face held only love as she gazed at the two of them.

“We’re staying with out dad. We don’t know how long.” 

Sam answered her, followed by asking if they could sit and eat. On the house, of course. They stayed at the bar for two hours, talking with Ellen and explaining everything that had happened in the last three years. Sammy had gotten academic awards every year. Dean was actually doing really well in his mechanics class. Sam had a big fat crush on a girl named Ruby that was way out of his league. Dean had been dating a girl named Lisa but she’d moved away in the middle of the school year for some unknown reason. Sam was friends with everyone, and Dean had one close friend named Benny. Bobby was doing okay with his auto shop, and Jody Mills came by to help often. They were happy. And now they were back in good old Lawrence, Kansas. 

What the hell are we going to do?

 

***

After the first week, the Winchesters settled into a routine. Dean and Sam woke up at nine, John at noon - at the earliest. The brothers would walk around town or work on cleaning up various parts of the house - the dirtiness was driving Dean insane.Their bedroom was impeccably clean, as was the kitchen and the main hallway. John insisted that Dean not get anywhere near his bedroom, but they would get everything in order; it’d just take a little more time.  
Two or three hours of wandering and/or cleaning, the boys would head down to Ellen’s bar - it had been renamed the Roadhouse since they’d been gone - and they would eat and talk and eat and talk and eat and talk. Because there was nothing else to do. The town was sleepy. They tried going to a movie, but it was so boring that they left halfway through. Jo wasn’t even there to go adventuring with them like she had when they were kids. She was at a horse ranch for the entire summer, and yes, summer was only three more weeks long by then, but Dean actually did want to see her. They had been best friends when they were little, agreeing to be friends forever after throwing sand at each other on the playground.  
But she was gone. And Dean loved Sam more than anything, but leave them together for too long and they start to snap.

“Dean, stop bumping into me.”

Sam shoved him lightly on the sidewalk, forcing his brother into the road. They were roaming aimlessly for the tenth time around downtown, which had far less hustle and bustle than most downtowns. 

“I’m not bumping into you. You keep walking in front of me, idiot.”

“I’m the idiot? Says the guy in a leather jacket when it’s ninety degrees outside.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

“You shut the fuck up.”

Dean stopped, grabbing Sam’s shoulder and spinning him around.

“Cut it out. Why are you so wound up, anyway?”

“Because we are in Lawrence, Dean! Lawrence. This is the worst place! It’s the place Dad lives, it’s boring, none of our friends are here, you couldn’t even get Bobby to explain and this is where Mom died! I hate it here.” 

Dean stiffened at the words, standing still as Sam pushed his hand off of his shoulder and stalked off. This is where Mom died. He shook his head, deciding to head away from Sam. What could the kid get up to? There was nothing to do.  
The park was empty, save for a small group of sparrows pecking at crumbs next to the swingset. Dean settled down on a bench, shedding the jacket and letting his head fall back. The bench was in the shade, luckily, and a soft breeze made it almost pleasant. The park wasn’t special in any way - a small playground in the center, trees in patches surrounding the field and benches in seemingly random places. He rested in the peace of the park for what felt like ten seconds (but was closer to around ten minutes) when he heard the scream. And not just any old scream - Sam.  
Dean leaped to his feet, abandoning the jacket and sprinting towards the noise. It seemed to be coming from a particularly thick patch of forest on the far edge of the field. As Dean reached the treeline, he could make out multiple shadowy forms inside, the smallest of which was cowering and being loomed over by several people far bigger.  
He didn’t care about the scratches and bruises he’d have at the end of this - Dean had to save his brother. He fought through the foliage, stomping saplings and breaking branches. It was taking him far longer than he’d hoped to get through - he could hear punches being thrown and people falling, as well as a few groans and yelps. By the time Dean emerged, he faced a ring of fallen bodies. Three large boys, one clutching his stomach, the other two crying and pressing their fingers gently to their fast-bruising faces.   
Off to the side, Dean saw Sam huddled behind a tree trunk, glancing at a shaking shrub in the other side of the clearing. He pointed, and Dean followed the finger. He pulled aside the leaves, revealing the last two of the group. They seemed to be fighting each other, for some reason, but Dean had no clue how Sam had taken down those three. These two were smaller, both dark-haired. One had his locks combed neatly behind his ears, the other had long strands flying all over his head. Dean spectated, wondering which one he’d end up having to beat up in order to finish the group off for hurting Sam. Well, almost hurting him.  
Wild-hair threw a punch that knocked neat-hair onto his ass, leaning down and pinching his neck. The boy went limp, and Dean heard him mutter “Michael, you imbecile” under his breath. He stood up, wiping off his jeans and t-shirt, before turning around and meeting Dean’s fist. He wheeled back, hand resting on the spot Dean had hit.

“Goddamnit!” 

Dean brought his hand back, cradling it in the other - damn, that boy had sharp cheekbones. That wouldn’t stop him from getting in a stomach hit, though. Dean clocked his arm back to prepare the strike before someone tackled him from behind, a small voice saying “STOP IT!”  
Sam got off of Dean, sitting up and helping Sharp-Cheekbones-Wild-Sex-Hair to his feet. Sam was muttering small questions, asking if he was okay and apologizing for Dean’s stupidity. The boy only nodded, not speaking or looking directly at either of the Winchesters.

“Sam, what the hell?”

Dean looked up incredulously from the ground, rubbing his knuckles.

“Dean, this guy saved me. He beat up all those guys. Hey - hey, what’s your name?”

The Winchester brothers turned their eyes onto the strange savior that was sitting in the dirt, cheek bruising and covered in dried leaves. He finally turned to look at them, and Dean was taken aback because wow. He hadn’t noticed how attractive the guy was when he’d socked him in the face, but now that he had time to actually process his features, he was stunned. He had tanned skin, a soft color in the shade of the trees. Full, pink lips that looked chapped and sunburnt. Bags under his eyes that didn’t belong on a teenager. And his eyes - even in the shade, they were an unnaturally vibrant blue. Dean felt bad for punching this particularly beautiful individual - who still hadn’t said his name.

“Dude. Your name? I’m Dean, this is Sam.”

Dean was staring, but he didn’t care. Blue eyes was looking at the ground, and there was an inscrutable look on his face. Dean was about to tell Sam that they should just thank him and go, when a rough voice started to speak.

“My name is Castiel.”

Sam turned to Dean, eyes slightly confused but still bright. This was the first exciting event they’d had since arriving in Lawrence, albeit violent. Castiel, the fighter. He stood up, rubbing his jaw and reaching out his hand to help Dean up. 

“Hey, man - sorry about punching your face. Y’know, I thought… I don’t know. But thanks. You’re, uh...you’re awesome. Yeah, so…” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, glancing between the ground and Castiel’s unblinking stare. “Sam? We have to get back to Dad’s.” 

Sam and Castiel now were staring at him, and Dean became aware that he was rubbing the pendant at a disturbingly fast pace. 

“Thanks, Cas. Sam?”

“Dean, c’mon - he just saved my ass, we can at least invite him over or something. Castiel, do you want to do something tomorrow? We don’t have anything to do and Dean’s driving me insane -”

“I do not believe that would be a good idea.” 

Castiel’s voice sounded sad. Something in Dean’s chest twitched at the way the boy glanced between the Winchesters, shuffling his feet. How could a guy that just smited four huge dudes get so nervous about something this small?

“C’mon, it’ll be nice. We’ll just walk around the park. Promise I won’t try to knock your teeth out this time.” 

Dean grinned, and Castiel’s lips twitched upward for a second before reverting back to their straight line. Castiel’s lips. Wow. Dean blinked, realizing that he was so focused on the lips that he hadn’t registered the words coming from the lips. 

“Dean? What time?” Sam inquired, eyebrow raised in question.

“Uh - does three work?”

“Yes, that time is alright. I will see you two there tomorrow, then. Goodbye, Sam. Goodbye, Dean. Try not to engage in activity with these people anymore.”

With that, Castiel left in a flash - turning around and swiftly striding through the trees. Both Winchesters stared after him, awe in their eyes and their bodies slightly sore.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell just happened?”


End file.
